There really was a man who couldn't open doors.
He just couldn't do it. It was a curious gap in his retinue of skills. Something that had mysteriously passed him by. The man who couldn't open doors was utterly terrible at job interviews, his first impression being that of an idiot unable to grasp the rudiments of door opening.
'Sorry. It must have been stuck' he would say as someone came to his aid.
He was unemployed. He hadn't done well in school. There are lots of doors in schools. He was invited to parties but always ended up in hallways. He spent his youth in hallways and wandering the streets.
The man who couldn't open door didn't have much of anything, all his possessions had been stolen from his little flat because he had to leave his door ajar all the time, so he could get in and out to buy food and collect his income support. The local kids had found out long ago that the man who couldn't open doors left his front door open all the time.
At first the man who couldn't open doors tried to make it look as if the door was closed but the local kids applied a rigorous scientific method and robbed him blind.
All the man who couldn't open doors had in his flat was a poster of Mao Tse-Tung. (The previous tenant had let it.)
The man who couldn't open doors got used to having no possessions at all.
The man who couldn't open doors sat in his empty room with the picture of Chairman Mao Tse-Tung and looked out the window.
The man who couldn't open doors like windows. He would spend all his time looking out of his little window that had a GreenPeace sticker in the corner. (The previous tenant had left it.)
Like all of us the man who couldn't open doors coped. He did what he could, looking out his little window at the world.